


And her laugh was the world

by Kami_del_Antro



Series: The knight and the scholar [4]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Carene, Commandach, Creampie, F/M, Light Dom/sub, NSFW, alternative title: how I realized I like to be dominated by my tiny girlfriend, or Canach gets his cock ridden good - falls in love as a result
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23508856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kami_del_Antro/pseuds/Kami_del_Antro
Summary: The day after his first time with Irene, Canach faces a dilemma.(request) (follow-up to the last chapter of Seasons)
Relationships: Canach (Guild Wars)/Original Character(s), Canach/Female Player Character (Guild Wars), Canach/Player Character (Guild Wars)
Series: The knight and the scholar [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910074
Kudos: 28





	And her laugh was the world

**Author's Note:**

> I got this request many months ago. It's real yearning hours here in quarantine town, so I took the chance to indulge myself in some good old Canach-related porn. Enjoy!

When Canach woke up, he groaned and covered his eyes with his arms. His mouth was dry and his head hurt, as if his body was overcome with the worst kind of hangover. His ears ringed with the roars of one thousand Dragons, and he wondered if he was even alive still. If he wasn’t, that would explain the soft mattress and silky bed sheets he could feel under his sore body. Maybe they had those in the Mists. Maybe ghosts understood the concept of comfort.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to wooden beams and a high ceiling above, and frowned. It didn’t look like any human inn he had stayed before. It was cozy, and clean, and it smelled strongly of lush roses and freshly cut grass. He breathed in, and sighed as he closed his eyes once more. The smell filled his chest with something sweet, and painful at the same time.

“Hello there, sleepyhead,” he heard someone calling. And as he turned to see, he felt his wind being forcibly removed from him.

Irene was there, covered up to her chest on the silky bed sheets, reading a book wider than her arms. She seemed relaxed - a tiny smile revealing something Canach had forgotten up until now. For she was naked under the bed sheet, and so was he. They had lay together the night before for the first time ever.

He had imagined last night’s scene many times, especially during his time with the Shining Blade, chained to that tyrant that was Anise. What he hadn’t imagined was that strange, quiet picture of intimacy. Irene, reading; not bothering putting on any clothes but modest enough to cover herself with her bedsheets. She glanced up at him, fixing her glasses as they had slid down her tiny, button nose.

“What?” she giggled, flustered all of the sudden. Canach blinked.

“What time is it?” he mumbled. She snorted.

“Late,” she replied. “I thought you weren’t going to wake up for the day. Almost grabbed lunch without you.”

And yet, she was there. Comfortable. Relaxed. Reading.  _ Naked _ . For some reason, his mind kept circling back towards that inescapable fact. Her tiny breasts, her round hips, her skinny limbs, so strong to hold onto him as he thrusted into her the night before. All of that, right under that thin piece of linen.

(Or maybe cotton. He wasn’t a tailor, after all)

With a grunt, he perched himself up; his mouth, as dry as the Maguuma wastes now, and contemplated her as she read, propped up on his elbow, head resting on his hand. Once again she turned towards him - this time, with a shy smile on her lips.

“What is it?” she asked again, her voice suddenly quiet.

What was he supposed to do? In each of his previous encounters he was lucky to even find a trace of whoever he had fucked with the night before. And even then, he was the one to quietly sneak out before anyone could find him. On the run, as a mercenary or as a dock thug, it was better to keep everyone at arm’s length. A night of passion in one of Lion’s Arch dirty taverns could very well end up with a knife to one’s throat.

But now the only thing piercing him were those eyes. They were bright, and purple, like her glow and her illusions. Tiny specs of black framed them, as the color descended to unfathomable depths. They were always, also, a tiny bit sad.

“Canach?” she murmured, closing her book, leaving it resting on her chest as she looked at him with worry.

She was as beautiful in daylight as in the night. So tiny and soft. And a  _ virgin _ , he remembered. One who had freely given herself to him, answering to his burning passion with a flame of her own. Endlessly curious, like a good scholar, trying to learn everything at once, to memorize the crevices of his body with her tiny, broken hands.

He stretched out an arm; his hand so close to her cheek he could feel her trembling breathing as her eyes fluttered closed. She was so soft. Even the scars across her whole body were incredibly soft, like tender bark.

He wanted to touch her. But instead, he grabbed her book, and threw it away with a displicent gesture.

Irene opened her eyes, sitting up upon hearing the loud thud. She looked at him as if he had insulted the Pale Tree, or worse - so heated up the bed sheet slid down a bit from her chest.

“You-...” she articulated, irate. But Canach caught the words with his lips.

She whined, and huffed, but slowly melted as the kiss deepened and Canach got bolder, overwhelming her with his weight and making her lie back down. The contact between his naked chest and hers was electrifying.

Canach broke the kiss to climb on top of her, as she grabbed his chin with a strerness that seemed not to belong to her.

“Do not ever do that again,” she castigated him, pointing at his triumphant smirk with an accusatory finger. “That book is a priceless essay collection about the latest discoveries in magical theory. Taimi lended it to me. If it’s damaged, I’ll kick you out.”

“Very well,” Canach purred, his smirk even more pronounced. Irene blushed even more.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself. Thorns!” she murmured, looking away and still grabbing at his jaw.

“How should I look at you then,  _ Commander _ ?” The sensual cadency with which Canach uttered the title made it sound like a dirty word rather than an honorific, as he leaned into Irene’s hand - her fingers grazing his parted lips.

“Repentant?” she adventured, as Canach leaned in closer, the tips of her fingers still caressing his lips.

“Oh, but I am deeply repentant,” he assured Irene, raising a thorny brow. “I pride myself in being willing to atone for my mistakes, as you’ve witnessed.”

“Then get my book,” she weakly ordered, eyes half-closed, lips yearning for contact.

“In a minute,” he replied over her lips, before finally kissing her again.

He could feel Irene inhale sharply when he let his weight fall on top of her, his half-erect cock pressing against her thigh. Even after their unleashed passion the night before, she was still remarkably shy about his naked body, and hers.

Irene softly moaned on his lips when his hand traced the small mound of her breast, carefully caressing and massaging its shape, discovering the tiny, round spot of her nipple and softly rubbing as he let his hand glide over it. If last night he had hurried to satisfy her, now he wanted to take his time, to rediscover every inch of her body in the daylight. And so he left her lips with a soft kiss -a promise to return- and kissed her breasts, licking and rubbing along his way down.

Up until then Irene had been passive, enjoying his attentions with little more than quiet moans and whimpers, but Canach suddenly felt her thin fingers finding the hidden paths between the thorns on his head, holding on to it as his facial hair brushed her chest. He chuckled. She was so bossy; instructing his every step even if she had less experience.

As he tended to her wishes, Canach’s hand found its way down her belly, crossed over by cruel scars, striped like a tiger’s coat. But he kept going down, uncovering the warm, wet folds between her legs, looking for the place to connect with her as he caressed. And she inhaled sharply once again when one of his fingers found its way in - his thumb tracing circles above her core in a maddening, slow move.

Irene’s hands hugged Canach’s shoulders as his hand moved, and she hungrily spread her legs up for him with a trembling gasp. As his movements became faster, he could feel her body shiver and heat up inside, in stark contrast with the fresh sensation of her skin on his tongue. But right as her breathing hinged up and her walls tightened, she shook her head and grabbed his wrist.

“W-wait!” she whimpered, pressing her thighs together. Canach glanced up from her chest, but she still had her eyes tightly closed. “I… there’s something I want to do first.”

Canach blinked at her, raising a brow as he retreated his hand.

“Whatever you say,” he mumbled, sitting upright as Irene did the same. Then, she put a hand on his chest, pushing him aside.

“Lie down,” she murmured, still not looking at him in the eye. Canach cocked his head to the side.

“Anything special in mind?” he teased. As a response, she just pushed him down on the bed as he chuckled.

What followed, however, cut his laugh short. For Irene now climbed on top of him, clumsily placing her hands on his chest as she straddled his stomach. He could feel something warm, inviting, resting on his skin.

Without a word, and only brief glances at him, Irene slid down his body, touching everything she could find as Canach realized he wasn’t the only one burning in the desire to explore. With the patience of a scholar Irene catalogued every inch of his torso, following the intricate patterns of his own, black scars over the grey of his skin, caressing every sudden turn on the castle-like lines. It was strange, allowing himself to be examined like so.

But his reflection melted in a surprised startle, when he felt Irene’s hands around his cock. He glanced down at her, contemplating what was between her fingers, and pondering for a second before leaning forward.

She licked. Long, wet, curious,  _ hot _ . Canach jolted on the mattress, pressing his lips together.

“Is it good?” she asked, soft voice caressing the tip of his dick. Canach didn’t know how to reply.

Irene licked again, and Canach’s hand found its way to her hair; short, soft petals coiling around his eager fingers. The teasing was infernal - a slow, deliberate torture delivered with love and care. He clenched his teeth, huffing and closing his eyes.

But then he could feel her mouth opening up to him, struggling to accommodate him, and a gutural, reluctant grunt escaped his throat. Irene moved slowly, stopping halfway down the road, and going back, grazing with her teeth and making Canach grunt again. She was clumsy and inexperienced, but her curiosity completely disarmed him in a haze of pleasure and something else. Warmer. Bigger. Scarier.

A low, deep moan escaped between his teeth, and he looked down because whatever was happening, he needed to see it before becoming undone. But even in his state, the fact that Irene was staring back at him made him pause.

They locked eyes, and Canach realized there was something uniquely vulnerable about being under Irene’s attention. And judging by the shimmer on her eyes, Irene had the same realization.

Suddenly she stopped, however, still piercing Canach with her intense gaze.

“I want to do it like last night,” she murmured, kneeling between his legs, hands tucked between her thighs. “But I also want to try another thing.”

Canach blinked, breathing still unsteady.

“Be my guest.”

Irene perked up, advancing on hands and knees until she was, once again, straddling him. This time, sitting above his crotch; her wet folds pressed against his cock. She gasped briefly, frowning as if she was focusing hard on the task ahead, until Canach placed his hands on her hips.

“Slow,” he instructed. Irene glanced briefly at him, nodding.

Her eagerness was overwhelming, as she lifted herself up and firmly grasped his cock, guiding it towards her entrance. The first contact made Canach exhale; so warm and tight as he made way between her folds. It was hard to keep steady, to allow her to dictate her own pace as she got used to the sensation.

“Oh, my,” she whispered, biting her lip and shrinking her shoulders.

“Don’t force it,” Canach grunted, teeth clenched. But Irene quickly shook her head.

“I’m not,” she mumbled, trembling. “Feels good.”

Canach wouldn’t dare to disagree, as she slowly dropped her weight on him, rocking her hips forward. Perhaps it had been too long since the last time he had lay with someone, but Irene’s body seemed to yearn in much the same way, tightly hugging him and driving him deeper in her. And not even the heaviness of his limbs and the exhaustion of months on the road and a night of sex was enough to make him stop craving for more.

Without warning Irene moved, lifting her hips and slowly dropping back down. Canach exhaled again, burying his fingers on her hips, as her hands traced pathways on his chest. Clumsily at first, but slowly picking up the pace, she rode his cock with patience and curiosity, lips parted open, and soft moans crowning each thrust inside of her. And suddenly, a shy smile adorned her face, dissipating if only for a brief moment the permanent veil of sadness on her eyes.

He couldn’t help it; lifting up her hips, he thrusted upwards, meeting her in the air and making her tremble and gasp. Her body hugged him tightly, and he swore he would cum even faster if only he could keep that delirant pace up. Irene clawed on his abdomen - a sudden, loud moan left her lips, as she once again shrugged her shoulders, embracing for the powerful orgasm that seemed so close to overwhelm her.

“Canach,” she moaned, her glasses crooked, her tiny breasts jumping up and down as she did. Canach bit his lip, moaning and panting because of the effort.

“Yes?” he said through clenched teeth.

“Stop… moving,” she muttered, clawing at his abdomen once more. Canach did as ordered, more stunned than obedient.

“Want to stop?” he asked, trying to conceal his disappointment. Irene, however, quickly shook her head.

“Not this,” she panted, spying at him through half-closed lids. “You. I want to do this myself.”

Canach frowned for a second, before raising a brow, and finally smirking at her.

“You awakened to be a Commander, it seems,” he observed. An ironic chuckle caught him off-guard.

“I awakened with a Wyld Hunt,” she reminded him, holding onto his hands. “Maybe you’re more correct than any of us know.”

“Don’t rub that one in,” Canach grunted, as Irene used his hands to lift herself and move her hips up and down.

Soon their conversation melted in moans, as Irene found the precise angle to drive them both towards the edge. She leaned forward, supporting her weight on Canach’s hands and moving only her hips, looming over him with eyes closed and a tiny, hungry smile on her lips. With every pump she felt more and more tight inside, every movement felt like burning velvet. So hot and soft it seemed hard to believe, even for someone with as much experience as Canach.

He forced himself to watch, not daring to close his eyes. He wanted to remember every detail of her face, every wrinkle on her brow, and every curve of her mouth - with a hint of her tongue peeking from behind her lips. Abandoned to the pleasure, all her worries pushed aside, just to give herself to her sensations. And, for reasons Canach was still to understand, allow him to stick around for the ride, to join her as she slowly pumped them both to orgasm.

And suddenly she jolted upwards, clenching her teeth as she felt the end closer. And Canach felt her hugging him with such perfection his arms weakened, as Irene’s weight pushed them down and she held onto his wrists. He arched against her, looking down and meeting her bright, attentive eyes, a moan escaping his control and landing on her lips. And he didn’t even have to ask for her deep, hungry kiss, as she pumped and pushed and kept him, against all reason, under her absolute control.

It was maddening. A scandal. It was  _ very good _ . He allowed himself to be restrained as he reached completion, unable to stop himself from thrusting upwards once more, his hands in fists and his pride forgotten. Hot, golden, thick as sap, his cum filled Irene up, making her tremble and moan on his lips, pressing further down on his wrists.

She followed shortly after, riding each and every single one of his jolts of pleasure, crowning her orgasm with a loud moan that Canach hurried to devour from her mouth. And she lay down on his chest, panting with her eyes closed, enjoying the sudden, temporary warmth of his body, waiting for him to settle down.

Canach blinked at the high ceiling, clenching and relaxing his fists. Did he just allow Irene to dominate him, albeit in a very, very small amount? He quickly looked down upon hearing Irene’s soft chuckle, meeting her eyes as she lifted herself from his chest. Was she even aware of what she had just done?

“What’s so funny?” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes. She averted her eyes, blushing.

“It’s nothing,” she murmured, caressing his abdomen. Canach glared. “Really. It’s very dumb.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he retorted. Irene sighed.

“Fine, fine,” she said, biting her lips. “It’s just that you asked me not to ‘rub that one in’, and-...”

She giggled. Canach frowned, confused.

“Well, I’m not the one rubbing  _ something _ in, am I?”

And just like that she laughed. A tiny, shy giggle at first, growing to an all-out laugh. Canach wanted to joke about it. He had an amazing, dirty comeback for it. But instead he jolted once more, arching his back and shrugging his shoulders with a grunt.

Irene stopped, suddenly worried.

“Are you alright?” she asked. Now Canach was the one averting his eyes.

“I’m still inside of you,” he reminded her. She blinked.

“Yes,” and she blushed. “I’m… extremely aware of that.”

“And when you laugh,” he explained then, glancing at her. “You vibrate. Inside.”

A pause. And then, a loud snort.

“Thorns!” Canach whined, closing his eyes and jolting once more. Irene laughed openly now, covering her mouth.

“I’m sorry! I really am!” she explained - with a hearty belly laugh he had never heard from her before. “But your face is so funny!”

And as she laughed and he suffered, moaning and grunting out of overstimulation, Canach realized he was in trouble. Because as intense as it was on his body now, he would love to hear that laugh every single day of his life.


End file.
